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His skin shows creases and the slightest greyness in pallour. His eyes, a strange and hazy violet, change focus often. His hair tucked haphazardly behind his ears to keep it from his face, no planning or reason to it. Amethyst is clearly not one for refinement, but his expression shows the intelligence of his kind.

Amethyst Rimestrider, born Dal'dieb Den'dranil (Translated as Violet Star Den'dranil), was born roughly two decades before the start of the First War. His exact lineage is unknown, the fate of his parents and even their identities have never been on record. He was raised by adoption by parents in their own right. Kalisa and Da'nakil Lightwing took him in out of the good of their hearts. He was an uncommon child for a Quel'dorei, with fiery red hair and eyes that were dim and arcane purple. Physically, he was much weaker than others of his age and as the years progressed he steadily got less healthy. His skin grew sickly pale and though he ate well he would not gain any weight.

Despite being visited by many priests, his health continued to wane. So much so that his adoptive parents took him from the city to the small town of Tranquillien with their own son--Aran'ase, then twenty-seven years old. To their-and everyone else's-surprise, he seemed to get better on the borderland and for many years they stayed there for his benefit.

His brother picked on him constantly because his frailty had led to having to leave his friends in Silvermoon, so Amethyst spent much of his time alone, exploring the wilderness with his new health. He grew quickly fascinated with the beasts in the woodlands and to the chagrin of his parents he'd forget to come home to eat during the day.

When the Orcs under Doomhammer invaded Quel'thalas, Amethyst, his brother, and his parents fled for Silvermoon, though only the two boys made it from the settlement along with a few neighbours. As they neared the city, he fell ill again. The others, not wanting to slow, left him where he lay. He urged his brother to go as well, before falling unconscious.

Waking to the sound of a march, Amethyst woke to catch his first glimpse of his later fate. The full armies of the Elves led by the Ranger-General on march. He stayed hidden, but watched in awe as the blades and bows of Quel'thalas were mobilized against the Horde, their Commander, Sylvanas Windrunner, immediately becoming a personal hero to him. He followed them, in hiding, until they crossed into the region of Stratholme where he lost sight, and drive, to continue.

Realizing that his illness grew worse when he neared the kingdom, he used the limited knowledge he had for survival and found the settlement again. He was taken in by another family, and lived there until Arthas' march on the Sunwell. During that time he did not seek out his estranged brother; however, he began weaving bits of cloth, plant matter, and pebbles into necklaces and bracelets, the beginning of his talent for crafting jewellery.

Fleeing Arthas and the Scourge Armies, Ame-as he had taken to being called-slipped into the wilderness as seamlessly as he could. While his friends and neighbours fled or died, he stayed hidden from the monstrosities and advanced with them in the hope that he could be of some use. His active life in Tranquillien had strengthened him enough that he almost didn't feel the effects of nearing on Silvermoon, but armed with only a Bow, he watched as Sylvanas laid her traps to halt the Scourge's advance. He had no direction, but knew enough not to get in the way. In the final stand, he watched his hero slain at Arthas' hands, and quickly losing hope, he fled back into the wilderness.

He felt the Sunwell's destruction like all Quel'dorei and the surge of magic knocked him unconscious. He was found by scattered remnants of the Farstriders and they at first thought him dead. He woke to them turning him over, and they saw the fear in his eyes. They took him, and they hid and when Arthas left Silvermoon he helped them take it back from the mindless abominations of the scourge.

After the fight, he found his eyes had grown a greenish hue and the other High Elves seemed wary of his change.

He never felt the withdrawal from the Sunwell's Magic, nor did he participate in the Fel Energy his High Elven brothers did, but he could not leave Quel'thalas either. When the Sin'dorei took up their new name, he found he could 'fit in' with their ranks but he knew he wasn't truly one of them.

Mistrustful of the Alliance, and fearful of the Horde, Ame stayed as did most of Quel'thalas-separate from the conflict of the Horde and the Alliance. He helped push back into the newly named Ghostlands and force the Scourge away. Though his physical weakness returned, as did a hacking cough, he continued to self-teach himself about the wilderness. He trained with his bow, and eventually found that he could be very empathetic towards the local beasts. So much so that he took on the first of his companions, a Lynx called Sanguine.

It was during this time that he grew an uncomfortable fondness for a Paladin, and slowly his 'illness' was pushed back. He grew disillusioned with the Sin'dorei as they stole their power and seemed to grow mad. This Paladin, Isakar, would prove to be an influential part of his life and push him from Silvermoon and out into the world.

When Sylvanas helped bring Quel'thalas into the Horde, Ame ventured to the Undercity to see her. The stale air was choking and the Forsaken initially terrified him, but as he ventured into the royal quarter and laid eyes on the Banshee Queen, he found a new purpose and took up allegiance to the last true Ranger-General of the High Elves, at least in his eyes.

When he first met the Orcs of Orgrimmar, he saw their gruffness and thought them savage. In the weeks and months following that meeting, though, he discovered that they had a deep capacity for compassion, and were nothing short of Honorable. He quickly sought out a way, and formally pledged fealty to the Horde.

In the forest of Ashenvale, after a bear felled Sanguine, he took on his second companion. Vanguard, an Alpha from the vale. The hulking wolf has been at his side ever since, growing stronger with him.

For several months, after meeting the Paladin that pushed him from his slump, Ame tried to master the magical arts. The flame cast him inconsolable pain and the arcane felt dark and dirty to him. The only spells he could reliably use were those of the frost. Despite this, he discovered that he had no affinity for the arcane arts. He was a Ranger, and realizing that he stopped practising the arcane.

Second only to his allegiance to Lady Sylvanas is his allegiance to the Frostwolf Clan of Orcs. He spent many months among them, growing stronger as he grew closer to their ranks. In their Skirmishes with the Dwarves, he was eventually approached, one night as he slept, by one of their worgs. The worg, named Rimefang, followed him for a day, and after a short conversation with a Frostwolf shaman he was made to understand that it had chosen him as it's rider.

He is an honorary member of the Frostwolf Clan, a title mostly of ceremony, and carries the name Rimestrider.

In recent days, Ame has vowed to fight the scourge at every turn. His loyalties are to the various forces of the Horde, but none supercede his loyalty to Lady Windrunner. He has recently begun to search for clues towards his brother's fate, hoping sincerely that the older elf survived.

His 'illness' is still with him, but it is only barely seen. His health is generally good though when in the presence of large amounts of arcane or fel energy he grows sluggish and tired. His eyes have begun to take on their former violet glow with the amount of time he spends in the presence of Dalaran's arcane walls.

'The chill in the air brings me some sad comfort. These dwarves that fight us every day, trying to drive my new friends from their home, are as good a target as any. Their human allies are hardy mages, but they can't stand against the aim of a Farstrider.

The Kaldorei among their ranks are a little tougher to kill; fierce sentinels, in a way admirable. I fought their kind in Warsong, not long ago, and had to be ever vigilant lest they creep into our mill. The destruction the Orcs are bringing in Ashenvale is nothing compared to the destruction the Dwarves are bringing on the Frostwolf.

I managed to get north enough to see the Stormpike Fortress. Dwarven constructions are sturdier than Orcish ones, but they have noticeable weaknesses. They're in a tactically superior position, the only access is their bridge. If we could take their bridge, though, then their soldiers in the field would not be able to get to their commander and we may have a chance of felling him.

I've been here for weeks already, the Orcs are finally starting to welcome me and I feel strangely accepted. These people I once saw as savage, I see now are vibrant and honorable. They are strong, and proud warriors and I am glad to fight alongside them.

I have seen the massive beasts they ride into war, majestic white fur. They look ferocious but they share a primal bond with their riders that I have not heard of. The rider and their beast are a team, and they fight as a team.

I see my breath in the air, and I realize that I am comfortable in the frost and snow. I do not feel the chill I did when I tried to use frozen magic. This is natural cold, and a cold that I can keep a hand around.